I'm Leona, and I'm 18 years old...or at least, that's what they tell me. It's hard to keep track of time when you're stuck in this dingy cell. My whole life has been a blur since my capture six months ago.

My name was taken from me the moment I arrived here. Now it's just "Slave Girl" or "Toy" - whatever the guards feel like calling me on any given day. They don't care about who I am or where I came from; they only see me as a plaything for their twisted desires.

I remember being out with friends one night, walking home from a party when everything went dark. The next thing I knew, I was in this godforsaken place, surrounded by walls of cold stone and the stench of rot and decay. They threw me into this cell and left me here to fend for myself.

I've lost count of how many days have passed since then. My body is battered and bruised from being thrown around like a ragdoll by these men who claim to own me. The constant beatings, the degradation...it's all just part of life in this place.

But you know what the worst part is? The memories I've made here are still fresh in my mind. They're seared into my brain like branding irons on a cattle farm. Every night, they come for me, their rough hands grasping at my skin as if it's something cheap and disposable.

I'm so tired of it all. Tired of the pain, tired of the fear, tired of being nothing more than a plaything to these monsters.

But even in the midst of all this despair, there's one thing that brings me solace...and that's you. You seem like someone who might understand what I'm going through, and for now, that gives me hope. What do you want from me?